


A Group Which Barely Missed Becoming Historic

by TheBlindBandit



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final day on the barricade. The senshi as Les Amis de l’ABC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Group Which Barely Missed Becoming Historic

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring Haruka as the glorious leader devoted to (The Mission) The Revolution, Michiru as a slightly more high class Grantaire who doesn’t even care and thinks they’re all doomed, she’s just there because of Haruka. Guest appearances by Minako as Courfeyrac, Setsuna as Combeferre, Ami as Joly, Mako as Feuilly, Usagi as Jean Prouvaire and Rei as Bahorel, with some Marius bits. Chibiusa is, of course, Gavroche. Michiru’s “I am terrific, when I put my mind to it” speech is paraphrased from Grantaire’s speech in the book. There are actually a great many Brick references and Easter eggs here, because I was having fun. Do not take this too seriously.

“She’s brooding again,” Michiru offered, breaking the silence that had settled in the unusually crowded room of the café. Her seat by the small window offered her the perfect view of the barricade outside, all makes of would-be insurgents still busily hurrying about, their fearsome golden leader perched on an overturned wagon and looking off into the distance.

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Ami offered peaceably from her seat, her hands never slowing down in their meticulous work, the table before her full of powder and empty cartridges, “she’s in a contemplative mood, that’s all. There’s a lot to think about.”

“Oh, no, she definitely is brooding. Look at her! The single most marvellous marble statue of a person brooding I have ever seen carved.”

“And you’ve, uh, carved some statues in your life, Michiru?” Minako piped up, throwing the entire room a wide grin.

Michiru turned to smile at her, raising a delicate eyebrow for full effect, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before Minako could continue the banter, the doors of the café opened, and the object of their discussion strode in. Haruka was a magnificent sight, no matter what she did, but here in her element she was truly breathtaking.

“They’re preparing for an attack. I’ve had reports from the two neighbouring barricades – they’ve been hit already. It is highly likely that we are next. Makoto, Ami, how is the ammunition going?”

“We’ve got more than enough for tonight, that’s for sure, and we can keep working on more in the breaks during fighting. Honestly,” Makoto frowned, “I’d be more worried about our food than our powder.”

“We’ll see. Setsuna, how are your patients?”

“Nothing too serious yet. Mostly bruises from some scuffles while getting here, and one cut – not too deep, thankfully. I can handle it on my own, so far, but I will need Ami with me once the attacks truly begin.”

Haruka gave a curt nod. “You’ll have her.”

“Friends,” she intoned after a few beats, immediately drawing all attention to herself and making everyone present stand up just a bit straighter, “we are at the brink. The people-”

“Oh, I’m sure the people appreciate all you’ve done for them,” a sardonic voice interrupted what had been on its way to becoming a grand speech, “The repairmen they pay to replace the paving stones you tore up will be particularly grateful.”

“I don’t care for your petty comments, Michiru.”

“Don’t you?”

“This is no place for them. This barricade,” Haruka’s voice was raised now, her fierce gaze raking over all assembled - wounded, hungry, exhausted and otherwise, “is a place for light, and for progress. The rut of cynicism is what we leave behind us as we embrace the inevitable future, be it built with our hands, or on top of our graves.”

She looked back down at Michiru, then, setting the full force of her determination on her, and concluded, “I do not begrudge the future my life.”

-

A few hours later, the attack still hadn’t come, and the tension was palpable and mounting. Haruka came down from her perch on the barricade where she had been keeping watch, with the intention of checking over her companions, and offering encouragement where it was needed.

She did not anticipate running into the most persistent thorn in her side, who was still somehow always devoted to being her shadow.

“What are you still doing here? I thought you didn’t believe in our cause, Miss Kaioh?”

The pointed way Haruka spoke her last name always seemed to Michiru to serve as another reinforcement of the distance placed between them. As if she needed one.

“That is true. I don’t believe in it. Your ideals are very lofty, but your execution is lacking and your little society is doomed. But,” her voice went more quiet and gentle than Haruka had ever heard it, “there is something I believe in. More than anything in this world.”

“Oh, yes? I am shocked. What would that be?”

“I believe in _you_.”

There was a long pause, in which Haruka seemed to be contemplating both this development and Michiru herself.

“Well then, will you do me a service?”

“Anything.”

“Stay out of our affairs. Go home. You’ll only be a distraction here.”

It stung, of course, but then Michiru was very used to it. “You know,” she began with a smile she meant none of, “I feel like you never give me enough credit. I am terrific, when I put my mind to it. I’m familiar with the Social Contract, I know my constitution of the Year II by heart,” a pause, for effect, before a dramatic proclamation, “ _The liberty of the citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins!_ Who do you take me for? The rights of man, the sovereignty of the people, I can keep going, and wonderfully so, on all these matters and related, watch in hand, for a full six hours!”

There was silence - not even Minako around to offer a comment. It was Haruka who broke the tension, quietly but in a voice that brooked no further argument.

“Go home, Michiru. I’ve given you enough chances.”

Then she turned and left to take up the watch again.

-

“I’m surprised to see you stayed.” _Even after that very firm rejection_ seemed to be suggested by Setsuna’s tone.

Michiru merely shrugged, not even caring enough to wonder how many had actually overheard their little confrontation. “Where else would I be?”

“Certainly not here, risking catching a stray bullet. At home, perhaps, enjoying the various comforts you have readily accessible.”

“Oh, don’t you start with that, too! All of you, save dear Makoto, come from well-to-do families. At least I don’t pretend I’m something that I’m not. And you are all playing at being great revolutionaries - looking to get yourselves killed, as far as I can see, wasting this pleasant June evening on bloodying the streets instead of strolling in the park and cramming for exams. So why should I be any different?”

“Because you’ve never cared about any of it, not one bit. Your regular meeting attendance is one of the greatest mysteries for any new member to try and solve, almost like an initiation ritual.”

“Hah,” Michiru gestured airily with an elegant, uncaring hand, “Why do any of us attend?”

“I’ve never seen you express anything but scorn for our ideas, and you seemed rather set in your ways. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“There has been no change. I don’t believe in getting myself shot in the name of the People any more than I did yesterday, and I think it’s all a tragic waste.”

Setsuna quieted, and seemed to be mulling things over for a few moments. “I don’t suppose you can load and shoot a rifle?”

“I’ve never actually tried.”

“Well, this is hardly a good environment for teaching. I fear you’d be more of a hindrance than a help out there.”

“And I agree with you. But I still want to make myself useful. Sitting here has become dreadfully dull.”

Setsuna looked down at her over the rim of her glasses, in some thought.

“There is a way for you to help, if you aren’t afraid of dirtying your hands.”

Michiru nodded. _Any time, if it’s for her_ went unspoken. “You shouldn’t underestimate me.”

“Ami and I already have our hands full with the wounded, and it is only going to get worse. You have a cool head and seem quick on the uptake. If you’ve the stomach for it, we could use you in here.”

“Well, I will roll up my sleeves and do my best.”

Setsuna nodded. “I can’t say I understand why you are doing this all of a sudden, but if you can fetch bandages and boil water half as well as you can throw around witticisms, you will be of great help to me.”

“We all die,” Michiru offered in way of an explanation, and shrugged, “struggling against that is a rather futile exercise I choose not to waste my time on. Dying here is no worse than dying anywhere else.”

“Haruka will-”

“Haruka looks at me as if I were a speck of mud caught on her boot, at best. My very presence seems to offend her. I assure you, I harbour no illusions in that area whatsoever.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean you, personally. Whatever someone tries with Haruka, it’s doomed to fail before it even starts. She lives only for her cause, as dedicated to it as a priest. You can never have her – nobody can. You know this, I assume?”

“Of course I do,” Michiru smiled as if she were making a grand joke at her own expense. “It’s why I love her.”

-

The worst of the day’s attacks came in the dead of night. The National Guard tried to creep up on them in the darkness, then gave up stealth for sheer force of numbers. The defenders were outclassed, outmanned and outgunned from the start, and things were not likely to look up for them.

Rei threw herself into the thickest of the battle with the ferocity and passion with which she did everything in life. She was perched on the top of the barricade, fighting off bayonets left and right, throwing down any who dared to try climbing over. She had no time to reload her gun, and when she shouted, nobody was behind her to hand her a ready one. In something close to desperation, she took one of the lit torches from its holders, and proceeded to fight off the most determined of the climbers with it.

Through the sparks and the smoke, Rei caught a glimpse of long blonde hair struggling in and out of sight amongst the soldiers – on the wrong side of the barricade, where she had perhaps fallen, or been dragged down.

_They had Usagi._ And there was no time to take a breath, let alone try to reach her and pull her back to safety. She glanced to both sides, only to see her companions close to being overwhelmed by the soldiers who simply kept on coming. Minako was overthrown before Rei’s very eyes, shouting instructions to the defenders behind her even while on the floor, about to be shot. Chibiusa was staring down the barrel of a rifle as well, and Rei couldn’t, wouldn’t let it end already, not like this.

All it took was a barrel of gunpowder from their stores. Rei hefted it up, and waved her torch, shouting loudly enough for everyone to hear her, even over the din.

“Get back! Get back or I’ll blow up the barricade, and all of us with it!”

The attackers and defenders both froze. Rei dropped the torch lower, dangerously close to the barrel.

The guardsmen needed no further encouragement. They scampered down the barricade, and fled. The attack was over.

Her companions rushed her, coming to congratulate her, and thank her, and berate her for playing with all of their lives. But one thought was loudest in Rei’s mind.

_Usagi? Where was Usagi?_

“Where is Usagi?” she cried out, not caring how desperate she sounded, when she could no longer stand it. The rebels all paused, and looked among themselves. Usagi was nowhere to be seen.

There was hardly time for a few mutterings of _captured_ and _exchange of hostages_ and _broker a deal_ when a shout sounded from down the barricaded street, in a high, sweet voice, usually put to much happier uses.

“Long live the future!”

Then a flash, and a shot, and a long silence.

Rei sank to her knees, pale and shaking. Then, in a flash, she got up, grabbed a rifle, and climbed up the barricade to take first watch.

-

“You know, Haruka, I admire you, I truly do.”

There was no response, but Minako expected as much, and merely pressed on with a growing grin few would suspect was at all forced.

“You live alone – which is a bit sad, I give you, but what can one do when one is striving to be a great, fearless leader? The rest of us get distracted by pretty boys, lovely girls, charmed one way or the other, but you – you have nobody. Something else fuels you.”

“I am dedicated to the Republic,” Haruka cut her off, serious and intense as always, “I have no time or need for a wife, or a mistress.”

Minako’s laughing fit was interrupted by a loud explosion – the artillery was here. She scampered up the barricade to take a look, and provide a few vulgar gestures in the direction of the soldiers.

“Hah! You call that a cannonade? That’s not thunder - that, my friend, is a cough!”

The canon sounded again, and Minako ducked back into cover.

“Oh, don’t overexert yourself, Sir Cannon! You don’t sound at all healthy,” she choked out while sneezing through the pouring white plaster dust, “We should send Ami over, to take a look at your lungs, eh?”

None of the others shared her amusement. Rei looked up to glare at her – the first time she’d met her eyes since they’d lost Usagi.

“We have to stop those cannons,” Haruka muttered, then turned to shout the order, “Fire on the artillery men!”

A word from Haruka was all that was needed for the barricade to spring to life. The next few minutes were filled with fire, smoke, and several deafening volleys. At the end of it, almost two thirds of the gunners were lying beside their cannons, dead. Those who remained were doing their best to carry on the pressure, but it was not enough.

The defenders’ relief was palpable.

“Things are going our way, finally,” Makoto opined, with a tired and weak but happy smile, “some success at last.”

“Any more of this success and there won’t be a single cartridge left on the barricade,” Haruka spoke matter-of-factly, turning the next part of her comment into an almost-order, “We need to be more sparing with the ammunition.”

Chibiusa overheard this remark, and ran off.

-

It was Setsuna who brought her in, mutely carrying the small, bloody bundle in her arms, Rei following close behind her with the armful of cartridges that had been so dearly paid for.

They set her on a table in the café and covered the body with a black shawl, then bowed their heads in respect, as if honouring a departed general. The respite granted was brief – shouts sounded outside, and Rei moved to distribute the ammunition.

As they all made to leave, Ami took Setsuna’s hand and sat her down next to their shared medical supplies. Setsuna didn’t resist or protest – in fact, she didn’t speak a word. Her face was covered in blood, both Chibiusa’s and her own. As she’d stooped to lift the dead child, a bullet had grazed her forehead - she’d barely noticed it. Ami cleaned the wound and bandaged it as best as she could with their dwindling stock of clean cloth, then sat quietly with her for a few moments.

Michiru took all of this in, and wanted to scream at Haruka, at all of them, for playing their games and letting a child die. But instead she retreated into a corner of the room miraculously left mostly empty, and waited.

-

Daylight broke, and the drum beat the charge. The final attack of the National Guard upon the barricade was furious and unstoppable. Each time the wave of soldiers was beaten back from the wall merely represented a slight delay, a stay of execution. The defenders fought on with whatever they had.

Haruka held one end of the barricade, Rei the other. But while Haruka took care to shelter herself and take out the attackers quickly, before they could even see her upon them, Rei fought like a woman possessed, clearly visible and unprotected, bullets whizzing past her as if even they were held at bay by the intensity of her rage.

Minako held the middle, her ammunition running dangerously low, but her spirits running high. Her hair was wild around her face, the signature bow long gone, having taken up the higher calling of a bandage around Rei’s arm where a lucky bayonet strike had landed. She shouted insults to provoke the guardsmen and soldiers as she fought, laughing at her own jokes.

Makoto raged as well - not with the burning intensity of Rei, but with the thunderous quality of a furious storm. “Does anyone here understand,” she exclaimed bitterly, in the midst of striking down a soldier who had dared to peek over the barricade, “all those celebrated big names, those well-known _heroes_ , who had promised to join us, and so loudly pledged their honour to aiding us, and who have so carelessly _abandoned_ us!”

Ami quietly laid a hand on her arm in sympathy, then went to join Setsuna in hauling away the wounded and the fallen, and her increasingly pointless efforts at treating their injuries.

Michiru stayed inside the café, waiting to hear the sound of the last desperate retreat that would bring the remaining survivors, if any, to join her, contemplating pouring herself one final glass of wine (watered-down and so much more sour than even she was used to) as a treat.

They fell, inevitably, one by one; first Rei, then Makoto, then Ami, then Minako. Setsuna went last, taking three bayonet blows to the chest while lifting up a wounded soldier.

Barely a full day and it was almost over.

-

When the soldiers of the National Guard finally made their way up the ruined staircase of the café, they found Haruka, standing alone, holding her head high, and looking regal and commanding - even forbidding - although surrounded by nothing but the debris of her failed uprising. She had no rifle, no ammunition, no sword or knife. Her only weapon was the broken stump of a gun barrel she had used to hit some guardsmen in the struggle. Even so, her presence was enough to keep the soldiers at a respectful distance.

“You! You are the leader,” one of the men finally spoke up. Haruka merely inclined her head slightly, and took a moment to look all of her would-be executioners in the eye.

“Shoot me,” she said, throwing away the sad scrap that had been her weapon.

The twelve men took aim.

“Wait!” an officer spoke up, still slightly dazed, and perhaps looking to escape the gaze that had pinned him, “would you like a blindfold?”

“No.”

All eyes were fixed on Haruka in her final, glorious moment, and thus Michiru went undetected in her corner. Quite the summary of a good deal of her life, really, she thought to herself with a wry smile.

The rifles were being raised again and the sergeant was about to give the order. It was well and truly over. Michiru took a deep breath, and pushed away from the wall.

“Long live the Republic!” the cry tore itself from her – she was unused to the words, perhaps, but there was no doubt or shakiness in the delivery.

“Long live the Republic!” she repeated, crossing the wreckage of the room, “I’m one of them.”

She stopped when she reached Haruka’s side, and turned to face the guns.

“Finish us both with one shot,” Michiru said, looking up at Haruka with an unspoken plea in her eyes.

Haruka took her hand, and smiled.

The report sounded.


End file.
